


no use crying over spilled coffee

by championstunic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute, alternate first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championstunic/pseuds/championstunic
Summary: Sachirou picks the cup back up again with his right hand, using his other hand to adjust one of his backpack straps so that it fits more comfortably across his shoulder, and turns to finally exit the shop in order to officially move on with his day.After that, it’s like everything happens in slow motion.Or: Sachirou is running late for class.
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	no use crying over spilled coffee

**Author's Note:**

> in which hirugami sachirou is incredibly tired and hopelessly gay (but, like, in university and stuff)

Sachirou can’t stop yawning. He wasn’t up late studying for once — midterm season is over, after all, and he’s glad to have a reprieve from seemingly endless exams — but his roommate just got a new video game and, against his better judgement, Sachirou had sat with him and watched him play into the early hours of the morning. While he was crawling into bed last night, well past 3am, he’d already known that he’d come to regret that, because his early Wednesday biology class is his hardest of the semester, so he knows he can't get away with napping during lecture. It was a wonder he even woke up on schedule at all. He was glad to find that he even had barely enough time allotted to grab a coffee before class, so at least he won’t be a total zombie for the entire morning — at least, not until he can take an afternoon nap in his corner of the library.

Sachirou yawns again as he opens the door to the campus coffee shop, almost immediately bumping into the shorter man waiting ahead of him. He stops himself just in time, though, his chest only a few centimetres away from the other person’s back. He still earns a disgruntled look from the man, so Sachirou simply holds up his hands in apology and makes a show of taking one big step back. Seemingly satisfied, the man finally faces forward again, towards the other two people waiting in front of them in the line. Sachirou laughs quietly in spite of himself. It’s way too early to get into any coffee shop arguments, but he’s never been much of a morning person, either, so the man’s annoyance is very much palpable to him.

Only two baristas are working the mid-morning rush today, despite the bustling coffee shop full of students and faculty rushing in and out, and all of the tables are occupied by groups of friends sharing last night’s gossip or stressed out graduates who probably got less sleep than Sachirou fussing over their computers. Sachirou pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and he figures it’ll be fine if he’s a couple of minutes late to class; it’s a big lecture hall and no one will notice his arrival. He shoves the phone back into his jeans with another yawn and spares a quick glance at the man in front of him as he waits.

He looks vaguely familiar. Sachirou supposes he’s seen him around campus or in the coffee shop before, but they’ve never talked and he doesn’t recognize him from any of his own classes. His cropped white hair stands out, though, like a beacon in a dark sky. His eyes are distinct, too; as wide as the saucers being used by the customers sitting at the small tables around them, sipping their coffee out of ceramic mugs. If Sachirou sees him again after this, he’ll know who he is immediately. With an appearance like that, there’s no way he could forget him.

The other man’s clothes aren’t that different from Sachirou’s own just-rolled-out-of-bed style. He’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the zipper pulled all the way up to his chin to protect against the morning chill outside, and sweatpants that are probably more comfortable than Sachirou’s old jeans. His bright blue backpack is so thin and compact that it looks like it’s almost empty on the inside, but the outside is covered all over with pins and charms that range from anime characters to volleyball jerseys. Sachirou yawns again.

He manages to tear his eyes away to look at his phone again and winces. Maybe, he thinks, if he wasn’t so low on time, he’d have talked to the other man. He seems interesting, and Sachirou likes to be around interesting people.

Still, Sachirou opens his mouth to say something, even though he doesn’t know what, but he’d been so focused on his observations that he doesn’t realize the line was slowly moving and that the man had already placed his own order. It’s Sachirou’s turn now, but before he steps up, he watches the man move away to wait for his drink for just a second. He quickly turns his head back and smiles at the barista, clearing his throat and trying — failing — to shake the image of the halo-haired boy out of his mind. Once Sachirou completes his order, he walks to the side while it’s being made and looks around to search for the other man again, although part of him knows he’s probably already long gone. 

Luckily, Sachirou doesn’t have to wait a while for his coffee, and his class isn’t too far away, so he thinks that maybe he can still make it in time if he hurries. He grips the paper cup in both hands while he carries it to the condiment station, allowing the heat to warm him up and allowing the smell alone to stave off some of his fatigue. He pours in his sugar and creamer without thinking about it, clumsily replacing the lid in a rush. Sachirou picks the cup back up again with his right hand, using his other hand to adjust one of his backpack straps so that it fits more comfortably across his shoulder, and turns to finally exit the shop in order to officially move on with his day.

After that, it’s like everything happens in slow motion. 

Just outside the door, Sachirou yawns. Sachirou collides with something solid. Sachirou involuntarily squeezes the coffee cup in his hand, which allows the unsecured lid to pop off easily. Sachirou spills the contents of the cup all over the ground in front of him. 

At least, that’s what it feels like with his eyes closed while he's yawning.

However, when he finally reopens them, he sees that he didn’t spill his coffee on the ground after all, but he spilled it on a person. A familiar looking person. Sachirou accidentally poured his hot coffee all over the man who had been waiting in line ahead of him. The man with the green eyes as big as saucers and snowy hair that looks soft to the touch. Now, though, his face is twisted in surprise, his mouth open in a wide “O,” and the entire front of his white zipped-up hoodie is covered in a dripping brown stain. The smell of coffee is overwhelming around them.  S achirou curses, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He tosses the emptied cup into a nearby trash can and immediately reaches behind his back into the front pocket of his backpack, where he knows he’s stashed some napkins.

“Watch where you’re going, dude, what the hell!” the other man shouts, staring down at his clothes and holding his arms up in the air, one hand clutching his own coffee. They’ve drawn the attention of some other students walking nearby, but they don’t stare for long as they hurry off to their own classes.

“I’m so sorry,” Sachirou sputters, holding out a stack of crumpled napkins for him. He doesn’t want to offend the other man, but he has to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of the situation.  _ So much for getting to class on time _ , he thinks.

The man recovers from his shock just enough to give Sachirou a withering look while he snatches the napkins away with his free hand to begin rubbing at the brown stain on his sweatshirt. It doesn’t do much. The stain is too big; Sachirou had needed  _ a lot _ of coffee. “As if this morning couldn’t get any worse,” the man mumbles.

“Here, let me do that,” Sachirou offers, taking the napkins from him and leaning down to dab at the stain instead. To his surprise, the man doesn’t protest, although his lips purse into a pout. “I really am sorry. Let me buy you another drink? Pay for your laundry?”

Sachirou looks away from the coffee stain to look up at him then, and the man’s eyebrows furrow.  _ Cute _ , Sachirou thinks, although he shouldn’t.

The man gestures towards the cup in his hand. “ _ My _ drink is fine, it’s yours that got spilled all over me.” As he speaks, Sachirou can feel his breath on the top of his head. It's warm and coffee-scented in the cold, fresh morning air.

“Oh, right,” Sachirou replies with a laugh, shifting his gaze back to the task at hand. Suddenly, he straightens up and removes his backpack completely, rifling through the bigger pocket now. “Wait, I think I have an extra jacket. You can use it, if you want, and I’ll take yours to wash it for you. How’s that?”

The man heaves a dramatic sigh and holds out his cup for Sachirou to take it from him while he unzips the ruined jacket. “Fine, I guess. Give me yours,” he demands.

Again, Sachirou resists the urge to laugh at the man’s obviously exaggerated affronted tone. While he pulls his hoodie out of his backpack, their university name emblazoned on the front of it in big letters, he asks, “What’s your name, by the way? I should probably know, since you’ll be wearing my clothes around all day.”

They trade jackets and the man answers frankly while he pulls Sachirou’s sweater over his head, some of his voice lost in the fabric. “Hoshiumi Kourai.” 

Sachirou’s sweatshirt is way too big on Hoshiumi, the hem almost reaching the middle of his thighs and the sleeves falling past his fingertips.  _ Cute _ , he thinks again, before he can chase the thought away.

Sachirou nods, stuffing the soiled hoodie into his backpack and throwing it back over his shoulders. He tosses the dirty napkins into the trash. “I’m Hirugami Sachirou,” he says, holding the filled coffee cup out for Hoshiumi to take back. “And again, I’m  _ really _ sorry. I’m so tired, and I was in such a hurry, but I should’ve been paying more attention.” Sachirou smiles at him apologetically.

Hoshiumi glares at him for a few more seconds before his gaze softens and he runs one sleeve-encased hand down his face with a sigh. “It’s alright, okay? I’ve just been having a rough morning.”

Sachirou lets out a small chuckle, almost all of his fatigue gone without even a sip of coffee. “Yeah, me too. What happened to you?”

Hoshiumi groans and hikes his backpack up slightly higher on his back. “Don’t even get me started,” he says, but he pushes on without reservation anyway. “I tried to go to bed early yesterday, but my upstairs neighbors were up  _ so late! _ I live in the dorms and the walls are thin, so I could hear them stomping around and playing video games and it kept me up all night! I ended up sleeping through my alarm and missing my morning class all because of them.”

A sudden laugh bubbles out of Sachirou before he can stop it, followed by recognition and guilt, because  _ of course _ this stranger is his downstairs neighbor, and  _ of course _ they had to meet officially for the first time this way. At least now he understands why Hoshiumi looks familiar. After Sachirou's outburst, Hoshiumi gives him a look of confusion, but Sachirou simply shakes his head in apology and clears his throat. He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Here, Hoshiumi-kun,” Sachirou says, handing his phone to the other man, “how about we exchange numbers? You know, so I can get your jacket back to you and stuff?”

Hoshiumi hesitates, but eventually he takes the phone and punches his number in before giving it back to Sachirou. When Sachirou looks at the screen after reclaiming his phone, his eyes catch on a calendar notification telling him that he’s almost fifteen minutes late to class. He figures it wouldn’t hurt to miss it just this once.

“I really do wanna make this up to you,” Sachirou says before Hoshiumi can leave, and he's referring to more than just the spilled coffee. “Do you have a class soon?”

Hoshiumi raises an eyebrow and looks Sachirou up and down before shaking his head in response.

“Let me treat you to lunch, at least?” he asks. 

When Hoshiumi nods his head tentatively, despite the fact that they both know it's nowhere near lunch time yet, Sachirou doesn’t yawn. He’s wide awake and his biology class is the last thing on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vethirugami) or [tumblr](https://spiritedsway.tumblr.com/) :)


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